Sitting on a curb by the roadside, hugging onto scared knees. She cries solent tears, but no else sees. She looks up to the lamp post, the only light to guide the way, suddenly something catches her attention, it’s the stars that glow for days. A flicker of hope ignights within, what else may be out there? The stars began dancing, filling the sky in glittery delight. Beyond the dark sky, surely there must be more for something so perfect has got to be adored.
So, she got up from the curb and dusted off her knees, she had made it her mission to search beyond our galaxy. One day she would fly, to a world beyond our own. In search for that glowing beauty and make it her own.
#Ithielbrinkman #throughhopecamestrength #empirerise #empirerise1 @empirerise1 🙏✌
He stood there, utterly afraid yet seemingly completely bold. Beneath the golden robe once lavished with phoenix feathers now weathered with ash, he hunched over the rails, as if that was the last thing holding him on this planet. Many passed him by, never stopping. Always in a hurry, never wondering where he needed to be.
I watched from a distance but unlike most and just like him, I too was hunched over- in the metaphorical state. My whole life I felt like I was walking the complete opposite direction to everyone else, in a league of my own, to the rhythm no one could hear. Why was he there? Who was this heavenly forsaken man?
As if the floor beneath me had given way I fell to my knees and grasped my ears! At first I thought it was a train, but somehow my eyes met his and magic happened! I heard what sounded like the gods and angels calling me. He had the smile of a saint and a face like the gods. Hair as white as snow and eyes that roared like the ocean. They were colours not from this world. To stare into them, meant you could feel his soul; his burden, his love, his loss. They were pure and kind but tainted with the pain of a thousand worlds before him. Those eyes had seen the unworldly. Why do I feel like those eyes had just chosen me? The last thing I remember before waking where the words “To be separate from the norm”.
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I can now understand why Vincent Van Gogh decided one ear was enough for the insidious, monotonous rubbish that our ears are enslaved to on a daily basis. We continue to be poisoned by the rules and riddles of society’s imperfectly beautiful lies. The silent whispers that echo like the haunting creaking of an old sorely forgotten but much loved house.
We are scared of the unknown. The “different” often pushing us to create an issue of some sort, because then of course if it is an “issue”- we can fix it, right? I have come to learn, well, when I say “come to learn” I actually mean to say “I bring forth light” on this subject. I am not unfamiliar to the taunting of bratty kids or superficial adults. Much like the age old guess of which came first, the chicken or the egg. Go figure, who’s taunts came first? You would be unnervingly surprised. Those who whisper, I hear you loud and clear, everyone can. You are but a broken pandemonium, on repeat like a record shunned from artistic brilliance! Stop searching my sagacious mind for answers to questions beyond your understanding. Not all riddles have yet been solved.
Don’t lend your ear to gossip, as my mother says. Hold your tongue. Don’t lose an ear for the sake of running a whispering campaign. Instead stand up for what is right, believe in what is different and Van Gogh hear the beauty around you!
#ithielbrinkman #throughhopecamestrength #empirerise @empirerise1 #empowerment #vangogh 🙏✌
Beauty was there. She saw what others didn’t. Her heart was heavy, her soul was searching and her mind was tired. She kissed with the tenderness of silk and smelt of sweet summer roses. Naive some called her, not bothered by gossip she found a way to always saw a heroin in every broken shadow.
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With nothing but the heavy sound of rain pouring, rushing by in a hurry. As if even the rain had somewhere more important to be, anywhere but with her. She was naked. Not just in the physical sense but her mind had been brought to it’s core. Vulnerable, riddled with the skeletons of old ghosts. Who would understand? Who would save her? The wind too soon joined the proclamation of her thoughts, howling and echoing thumping with intensifying blows. At the same time realising she had a horrible headache. Where am I, how did I get here? Just then the lights arrived as she reached to cover her eyes and finding the source if her agony, bloodied hands and dirt filled nails. The fear that over came her was gut wrenching, trying to lift herself up and move, it was then reality set in- her limbs were shackled.
Fuck! How did I get here, who was lurking behind those lights. Her stomach began churning empty with dread and filled with fear. Run! Run! Her mind had awoken and the sudden urge to run was there, the burning desire that drove her had come back. She was a fighter, the scars had proven it’s point. Only this time the reality of entrapment had stopped her. Not the good kind, where friends share secrets and lovers make bonds. The kind of trap where your life depended on being free. She was numb, all over but her mind was sharp. What was happening, is this a dream? As the rain gently fell upon her skin, kissing her cheeks with each gentle drop. She began to wonder, Am I…dead? She stayed there, in the middle of the woods, her soul had finally found it’s peace. In death, maybe I will find my peace she thought. For surely this nightmare has got to end.
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Like seeing a ghost, there she was. Walking with only the dark night sky to keep her company. She had enough, that was it. Things had come to it’s bitter end. The kind of bitter you taste when first trying a lemon. The kind of acid that burns holes. Her walking had turned into a slow jog, intensifying with every memory, ever scar and every tortured thought. If anyone was to call her name, it would fall upon deaf ears. The person they knew had gone, she had been burnt to many times. The burden of generations had finally collapsed, as had she. For a moment, in the black hollow of the night watching beautiful magic happen, she suddenly rose like a phoenix from the ashes. Some have said they saw flames, others heard a piercing scream.
Truth is what seemed like chaos to outsiders looking in, was a beautiful storm. She had broken herself down in order to rearrange the pieces and rebuild herself. She was a masterpiece in progress waiting for the world to awe in all the magical beauty of something utterly original. She was, as she was…a crazy-beautiful piece of art. Her mind was made up. Surely, she had, had enough, right?
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He grabbed her by the throat and voilently shook her. Forcing her to the ground. “Stay here and don’t follow me”. The words ripped through her soul like a sword cutting through silk. The scream that escaped her was deafening, bone chilling. Like death had suddenly found a voice. Before she she could catch her breath, life as she once knew had forever changed. She no longer felt like the leader of a pack. She had inevitably become a lone wolf. Ever get that overwhelming sense of familiarity, as if the steps you’ve take had been taken before?
It was like dancing with the devil himself. Twirling and spinning, shimmering like a star. She saw the fire, she felt the flames, but of course like a magpie swooping and soring he saw her glowing and stole her heart. She was doomed, for love had more meaning than just that of it’s definition. It was beyong Shakespeare and deeper than Romeo and Juliet theselves. This was something of magic, the dust that falls when stars explode to create the night sky. I guess some would even go as far as to call it, Fate. Beyond words but on a level only a connection could explain. She glanced and turned away, it burnt her soul to stare any longer. Like many whirlwind stories though some could argue this started off like any other night. Summer sweaty air filled with the smell of cigarettes, sweet whiskey and laughter that could fill a thousand rooms. What lay ahead, only the Gods could forsee.
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